A Tale of Two Snapes

A TALE OF TWO SNAPES.

CHAPTER 2

MALFOY AND POTTER

The week that followed found Snape increasingly troubled and burdened. He received at least one owl daily from Lucius Malfoy. Most letters contained teaching advice and special instructions for his son. Every one of them contained hateful remarks and vicious attacks about "that filthy little Potter boy".

The latest, which Snape had just incinerated with a wave of his wand, lay curled and blackened on his desk. The words he had just read burned as brightly on his mind as the parchment had when he set it alight.

"Snape," it began, infuriating him no end the way that Lucius Malfoy addressed wizards and witches by their last names, and never addressed him as "Professor Snape". A reminder of how he considers us below him, he thought.

"I am most certain that I do not need to remind you of your duties and your loyalties." Snape sneered at this. "But you are doing just that," he said to the parchment.

"I trust that you can be relied upon to properly prepare my son, as well as yourself, for the inevitability of things to come. Unless, of course, you are content in being that fool Dumbledore's lapdog. Surely do not wish to suffer the same fate as those who do not believe as certain enlightened wizards and witches.

"Enclosed you will find a list of appropriate curses and potions that my son should know immediately. Lucius Malfoy".

Snape sat and stared at the smoldering parchment. "Just like that bastard. With Draco learning these from me Lucius is absolved of all repercussions if his son is ever caught with this knowledge."

He brushed the ashes off of his desk as a soft knock sounded on his office door. He knew who it was, having sent for him earlier. "Come," he said.

The door opened and Draco Malfoy walked in. His platinum blond hair seemed to shine with its own light in the semi darkness of the office. He carried himself with the cocksure confidence that came not only from living under the same roof as Lucius Malfoy, but also from knowing his own potential. And pride. Yes, a great deal of pride.

"You wished to see me professor," Draco drawled, his eyes drifting here and there, taking in everything, observing, remembering. So much like his father already, Snape thought. I have much work to do already, it seems.

"Sit, Malfoy," he ordered, pointing to a hard wooden chair in front of his desk. Draco did so without question or objection. More of his fathers conditioning, no doubt.

He stared at the boy, who stared back, unblinking, seemingly unconcerned that that his Head of House sat before him. Snape reached out with his mind, probing, searching. He was trying to find something, anything that would help him with the task set before him. It was only when he started to withdraw his mind and energies from the boy that he found it.

A mixture of defiance and fear. And pride. It was slight; all of it, but it was enough.

Snape sat back and smiled. "Your father has very adamant in regards to your education," he paused. He had chosen his words carefully, to bait the boy, to lead the conversation. He waited for a response.

"He has been such since I could hold a wand," Draco replied, barely disguising the disgust in his voice. Snape, however, caught it, and was pleased. He continued before Draco could say anything else.

"As per his," he paused, wanting to say "orders". He opted for the more tactful and less defiant route, not wanting to let Draco on to anything to soon. "Instructions," he continued, "I am to provide you with extra training in certain areas that your father feels will be vital to your education and growth."

The hunger that flashed in Dracos eyes almost overshadowed the trace of disappointment in his voice. Almost.

"Father has mentioned this to me," he said lazily. "I look forward to these additional lessons, professor." A sly grin creased his delicate features as his voice became laced with something that Snape could not quite place. "I am certain that they shall come in most handy."

This was the reaction that he had hoped for. They both sat in silence for a minute as Snape once again extended his mind into Malfoys. Defiance was still there, but fear was replaced by something else, something stronger. Something both disturbing and exciting to Snape. It was hatred. But for who, he could not tell.

"I will let you know tomorrow," he started, quickly withdrawing his mind again, "after your first potions class, when these lessons will commence." He waved his hand dismissively. "That is all." He turned his back to Draco, busying himself with some books on the shelf behind him. He did not turn back around until he heard his office door shut.

It would not be until much later that he would notice the missing jar of crushed bloodstone or dragon fang that seemed to have disappeared as well.

He saw Potter once the next day, walking between classes with his new friend, the Weasley boy. With them both was a bushy haired girl who seemed to be carrying enough books for the three of them. Seems Draco Malfoy isn't the only one so much like his father already, he thought. How long before this Potter had a Black and a Lupin of his own?

He dwelled on this entirely too much before his first lesson with the first years, later that day. By the time he arrived in his dungeon classroom he was angrier than he should have been, and he knew who his target would be. It was unfair, to be certain, but even now, he'd take the small victories when he could.

And it was these little victories that would lead to the greatest and most needed of victories. Regardless of what may be lost. He had made sacrifices before, for the greater good. He was prepared to again.

He swept into class swiftly, his robes flowing fluidly behind him. Stopping at his desk, he surveyed the students assembled there, taking note of where each student sat. Malfoy was at Snape's old desk while Potter was in the exact chair that his father sat in all those years before. He looked more like James than ever before and Snape fought hard to stifle the anger that rose at this thought.

He started roll call, pausing at Potter's name. "Ah yes, Harry Potter, our new celebrity." He appeared to enjoy watching the boy squirm uncomfortably under this unexpected and unwanted attention. At the same time, he felt extremely low and vile. How hard would it be to treat Potter like this, to feign hate, to deny his true feelings? How long must he pretend?

He finished roll then started class. By the end of it he had taken two points from Gryffindor, both from Potter. He did not particularly like it, but he knew that eyes were already watching him and his actions to Potter. He had played the betrayer before; he was ready to do it again.

But he would never betray his word, or the promises he made. Two vows he took, and two vows he would keep. One was to Dumbledore. The first was to Lily.

He pushed that thought aside as he slipped Malfoy a note that contained instructions for his first of many private lessons. He muttered to himself as the class emptied, "the enemy of my enemy. Who is the enemy. Who will be the hero?"

He did not sleep well that night. Fleeting and horrible visions danced through his mind when he closed his eyes. Dark and hooded figures loomed over him as one raised its wand and uttered "crucio". Platinum blond hair shined in the darkness. A blinding green light flashed violently, quickly replaced by beautiful green eyes, their own light rapidly fading.

"Remember your promise, Severus," she pleaded. "Protect him. Love him."

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Severus Snape, potions master of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, head of Slytherin House, woke up crying as Lily Evans died in his arms again.